


Being There

by NaeAnBelle



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Hospital, Hurt Spencer Reid, Hurt/Comfort, My First Fanfic, POV First Person, Reader-Insert, reference to violence, the most fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-25
Updated: 2017-07-14
Packaged: 2018-09-26 19:51:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9919688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NaeAnBelle/pseuds/NaeAnBelle
Summary: I wanted more fluff of helping and comforting That Good Boy so I wrote this, first person pov of the reader and Spencer in an established relationship, reader being there for Spencer after he has been kidnapped and rescued again.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so this is my first fanfic, I have very little experience with creative writing but I've been really loving Criminal Minds lately and oops a crush on Spencer happened. Basically I just wanted to think through what I would do if I was able to be there for him through bad times so I started writing this for fun and it turned into a thing. Not sure how many chapters it will be but I'm almost done with the second. This isn't really reader/Spencer, it's more like my pov but I'll keep them pretty generic and relatable and will probably just use Y/N to refer to the reader character in the future. Not sure how long this will be or where it will go but if age rating changes I will update it.

I was able to be there when they pulled Spencer out of the building. As a civilian this was probably against protocol but JJ made it happen while Hotch looked the other way. They knew. They knew I needed to be there just as much as them. Spencer’s kidnapper and torturer was dead, his fresh blood pouring into the ground from the well-aimed bullet in his head. I didn’t know who had fired the shot, and I couldn’t bring myself to even look at the dead monster. All I could see was Spencer. 

I had tunnel vision. I had been in a dissociative haze since he had been taken four days ago, numb and useless, but now my senses were coming back as I saw him stumble and be caught and propped up by Morgan. It was night but in the light of the police cars I could see he was clutching his ribs. There was a gash above his right eyebrow. He was covered in bruises and dirt. I couldn’t tell if he had two black eyes or if they were just circles of extreme exhaustion. His hands trembled but his lips stayed in a firm line; he was still in survival mode, the reality of his rescue not set in yet. 

I whispered his name to myself, then got louder and louder, my voice cracking, and I suddenly realized I was running. I had broken out of JJ’s grasp and passed the police barricades. All I could see was him. Spencer looked up and finally saw me when I was just a few paces away and I saw the dam break in his eyes as he recognized me. His arms opened up as I reached him and I tried to be gentle with his ribs while embracing him as much as I could. Morgan stepped back from us and said something I couldn’t understand. All I could hear was my heart hammering in my ears and Spencer’s sobs and my own voice repeating: 

“you’re alright, you’re alright, I’m here Spence, you’re safe. You’re safe. it’s over.”

I rubbed his back with one hand and supported most of his weight as he relaxed on me. I could feel his hands gripping and releasing the back of my coat frantically, a panicked tick that gradually slowed as the uncertainty of my reality faded. I heard someone else say my name, perhaps JJ, before I realized paramedics were right beside us, trying to get Spencer into the ambulance. He couldn’t let go of me; he was still panicking. I murmured quietly to him that I wouldn’t leave his side and his grip on me loosened a little. I realized someone had wrapped a panic blanket around us, mostly Spencer. It was a cold night and he was shaking from more than shock. 

As a unit we let ourselves be guided by paramedics into the ambulance. There was no question that I would join him in the back. After a cursory check the paramedics thought a few of Spencer’s ribs might be broken and the cut on his forehead might need stitches as well as an infection check. He was dehydrated and starved. I helped him lay down on the stretcher, held his hand and stroked his hair the whole ride there. I registered noise around us but if anyone spoke to me I couldn’t hear them. All I could see were Spencer’s eyes, dark and scared. I spoke a soft stream of comforting babble to him, trying to provide as much sensory comfort as I could. Gradually the tightness around his eyes loosened and I felt some warmth come back to his skin. He still wasn’t speaking. 

When we got to the hospital I was separated from him briefly as the doctors rushed him in to check the extent of the damage. During this time my stomach churned in anxiety but I forced myself to stay calm. I couldn’t sit still and wasn’t sure what to do but I bought water bottles and peanut butter crackers from the vending machines for Spencer if he was able to eat. My phobia of hospitals made the anxiety worse, and I wanted to break when I was guided to Spencer’s overnight room to see him tucked in bed in hospital robes and IV drips. 

They had cleaned him up some. Luckily the cut wouldn’t need stitches but he had two broken ribs, I thought I heard the words “boot marks” but it made me shudder internally and I pushed it away to process later. I asked what I could do; he had an IV drip for the dehydration but he could have some of the water I’d brought, just not the crackers yet. They gave Spencer a straw and a cup to make drinking easier and me a damp washcloth to help clean the rest of the dirt off him, and then, blessedly, they left us alone. 

He reached out for me the second the door closed behind the nurse. I gently held his face in my hands and pressed my forehead against his, avoiding his bandaged cut. His arms wrapped around my neck but couldn’t go much farther with the IVs. He said my name softly and I realized I was crying. I didn’t want to cry in front of him; I wasn’t the one in need of comforting, but I couldn’t stop. The thought of anyone harming this man, this kind, genius, soft-spoken human, hurt me to think about. 

“I’m here, I’m here, it’s okay,” I whispered.

He felt so fragile I was afraid to speak louder. His thin arms loosened and fell from my neck; he was probably too exhausted to keep them raised. I kissed his forehead and stroked his cheekbones with my thumbs, feeling a hot tear slip down my face. I moved back a bit and sat on the chair by the bed but leaned over to keep his face in my hands and we just sat and looked at each other for a bit. Spencer lifted a hand and held one of my own against his face, rubbing small circles into it with his thumb, and we just let our eyes make a silent exchange for a few minutes. 

In his eyes I could see pain, exhaustion, and relief. It had turned out to be dark circles instead of black eyes after all, and after four days of almost no food or water he looked almost skeletal, his face gaunt and gray. But the hard edge was starting to soften, and I could feel a silent gratefulness at my presence emanating from him. 

For the first time since this mess started I wondered what I looked like. I couldn’t remember when I had last showered or slept, I knew I had at some point over the excruciating four days but it was just a blur. I probably looked as sick as I had felt, disheveled and red eyed. But it didn’t matter. Spencer was here, he was alive, I was holding him, this was real.

There was still some grime on his face and arms. I picked up the washcloth from the nurse with my free hand and looked at him for permission. Spencer blinked drowsily for approval and let me begin gently wiping the mud from his face, closing his eyes at my touch. I then gradually eased our joined hands off his face and lowered his arm. He kept my hand in his as I wiped each spot off his arms, noting the various scratches and bruises, wishing I could remove all evidence and memory of the trauma he’d endured for four days. 

He stayed pretty quiet the rest of the night. I wanted to do all I could to make him feel comfortable and safe without overwhelming him, and he allowed me to wrap him in that gentle comfort as his mind came back from that dark place. I asked the nurse for extra blankets for the weight on his body to help him feel grounded and warm. I wrapped my knit cardigan around his shoulders; he smelled it and rubbed the soft fabric with a little smile. Eventually he was able to nibble on the crackers and I got him some hot tea. Someone from the team got me my kindle and I read aloud some of his childhood favorite -- Proust. 

Spencer had barely slept in four days of torture but was afraid to close his eyes and dream of that place. I made him as comfortable as I could and told him he didn’t have to fall asleep if he didn’t want to, but I would be right there the whole time. Eventually it was clear he could barely keep his eyes open. Spence patted the space beside him and looked at me pleadingly; I didn’t even consider what the hospital staff would advise. I carefully helped him scoot over so as not to disrupt his ribs or IV but give myself enough room and lowered under the blankets and onto the little hospital bed. 

We turned our heads to face each other as he nodded off, holding hands under the covers. I thought he had finally passed out and was letting my own eyes close when I heard him hoarsely whisper,

“I’m sorry… you were worried…” 

“Shh” I hushed, “Don’t. Not your fault, love.” 

I leaned forward and gave him the softest kiss on the lips I could, not wanting to push. I had avoided kissing him in this way thus far because I had wanted to focus on giving Spencer the safety and comfort he needed, not romance, but he kissed me back a little more firmly. 

“I love you,” he sighed, drifting back off. 

“I love you too,” I said smiling, “get some sleep sweetheart, I’m not going anywhere.” 

I fell asleep to his slow, even breathing near my ear, relieved he felt safe enough to rest and praying he’d have an easy sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Edit: I wasn't really sure at first but I don't think I consider this to be about the kidnapping by Tobias. When I started writing this I was thinking about it as a later incident several years after Spencer's first abduction, which I might still hold on to and explore later, but for now this is a different incident with different injuries and a different timeframe. Sorry if this is confusing, it's my first fanfic and I'm sort of just letting it flow and not planning ahead too much. But writing has become a really nice stress reliever for me, I hope you've enjoyed reading :)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there's a little character development of the first person, and probably not enough conversation. Gonna get Spencer settled and then try to write more dialogue, hopefully this is still nice to read! Thank you for any feedback!

We managed to get a few hours of sleep. I woke up to Spencer beginning to thrash and cry out in bed next to me, a nightmare wrangling with his psyche. I panicked for a moment; should I restrain him to stop him from hurting himself, or would it just make him more scared to feel someone holding him down? I decided instead to call out to him. I squeezed the hand still in mine and said as calmly but firmly as I could,

“Spencer, wake up, it’s a dream. I’m right here, you’re safe, you can wake up.”

His eyes flew open as he cried out, wilding looking around. He took in the hospital ceiling and turned to see me pushed onto my side, looking at him with concern. 

“Oh god, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry I woke you up, I—“ 

I interrupted, “It’s okay, Spence, you’re okay,”

I stroked his face as he settled back down on the pillows. I saw his lower lip tremble and his eyes begin to fill. I was overwhelmed with a need to protect and comfort this man. I had no idea what he had gone through and I would never understand those scars but I would do anything to help him heal. 

“Oh, honey,” I said softly, and rolled him onto his side into an embrace.

His long arms wrapped around me and I tucked his head under my chin, stroking the back of his hair. I kissed the top of his head and sighed, 

“Spence… I am so sorry. I’m so sorry for what you’ve been through. I would do anything to take it away. I’ll do whatever you need to help you get through this.” 

His hands still clung to me but he looked up to see my face. 

“Love, you don’t owe me…”

“Hey,” I cut him off, “No way. I’m in this for the long haul, we’ve been together almost a year and I’m not going away now when you need someone the most. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

I grinned a little and he managed a small chuckle but kept a serious gaze on me. 

“Why on earth would I want to get rid of you,” he murmured.

His hand reached the back of my neck and he pulled me down for a kiss. I wrapped him in my arms and tried to pour all my love and care and worry and fear into that kiss. We broke apart and he looked back at me, a little starry-eyed. 

“Thank you for being here,” he whispered, “I know you hate hospitals.”

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be,” I said honestly. 

He shut his eyes and snuggled in close to me. I asked if he wanted to try to sleep a little more and he nodded. The sun was just starting to peak through the window blinds as I ran my fingers through Spencer’s hair and stroked his back. We fell asleep breathing in sync. 

 

I woke up a few hours later to the sound of the door opening. The nurse had popped her head in to check on us. I lifted my head slightly, not wanting to wake Spencer but embarrassed to be found in his hospital bed and clearly cuddling him. I needn’t have worried. The nurse smiled kindly and silently mouthed, “I’ll check in later,” before quietly shutting the door. I passed out again almost immediately afterwards; I was finally sleeping with relative ease with Spencer safe next to me. 

A little later in the morning I woke up to soft fingers stroking my hair away from my face. My eyes fluttered open and I watched my favorite face slide into view, watching over me with a little smile. 

“Hey, kid,” Spencer croaked. I grinned at his pet name for me. 

“Hey yourself, how long have you been awake?” I asked, shifting to get a better look at him and rest my hand on his chest.

He laid his hand over mine. 

“About twenty minutes,” he replied, “the nurse needed to come check on me, she was quiet so you could sleep.” 

I blushed a little at the thought of a stranger seeing me passed out on my boyfriend in a tiny bed I probably wasn’t supposed to be in, but I was curious about how Spencer was doing. 

“What’d she say?” I asked, wondering if we’d be able to leave soon. 

“Well,” he grinned a little mischievously, “she said you’re very beautiful, and I’m very lucky, and I agreed,” Spence said, now full-on smirking.

I had turned properly red, but I rolled my eyes. 

“I meant what’d she say about your condition, literal genius,” I joked, poking his cheek with my finger. 

“She said I’m doing well, I’ll need another check with the doctor and a follow up psych-eval but we should be able to go... home today,” 

Spencer said, smiling but with a little trepidation in his voice. I thought I understood his tone. We had been together for almost a year but weren’t living together yet; we had certainly discussed it and spent enough time at each other’s places that our belongings were starting to intermingle between our two apartments, but his place was bigger and closer to work so it was where we spent most of our time. I knew he didn’t want to be there alone. 

“Okay, here’s a plan proposal,” I said, sitting up to wipe some of the sleep out of my eyes. 

“You have your doctor’s visit and get all checked out, I’ll run by my place and grab a few things, and then go home to clean the place up and do some cooking so you can have some real food tonight. Sound good?” 

Spencer smiled softly, “Home?” 

“Mm-hmm,” I nodded and leaned forward to give him a kiss, “I told you, I’m gonna be here.” 

His grin widened and he shook his head a little at me, 

“You’re the best,” he said. 

“Nahhhhhhh,” I drawled out, exaggerating; always terrible at accepting compliments. 

“So what do you want to eat?”

 

We chattered on awhile longer, holding each other and planning the day. I was a little worried about leaving him alone with the doctors but Spencer reminded me they’d probably need to speak with him alone anyway, in addition to a private visit from the government psychiatrist to check his mental state after the trauma. They’d probably schedule several visits as part of his recovery. I asked him multiple times if it was really okay for me to leave for a bit and he understood my separation anxiety, gently telling me he’d be okay. 

After about half an hour of planning I finally got myself out of the bed, luckily just before the nurse popped in to prep Spencer for the doctor. I gave her a polite greeting before I shuffled off to the little bathroom attached to Spencer’s room, my legs stiff. I quietly shut the door from the two discussing Spencer’s condition and flicked on the light. The person in the mirror looking back at me had wild, greasy hair. I leaned forward over the sink. I had purpling dark circles and smudged mascara around my eyes, my lips were chapped, my face felt grimy— I was a mess. That nurse was a kind liar, I thought jokingly to myself as I splashed water on my face and finger-combed my hair. I dug my chapstick out of my pocket and removed the rest of the mascara; just a few moments of self-care and I definitely looked and felt better, but I still really needed a shower. 

I clicked the door back open; the nurse was still there. She updated me on what she had been telling Spencer; he’d need bedrest for another few days but they were allowing him to check out knowing he’d be more comfortable at home and would have someone to look after him. She said this last part smiling at me, and gave me some specific instructions about how we should expect to see his physical recovery develop. His fractured ribs would take about six weeks to heal, and his breathing and movement would be limited for awhile. He’d probably need a few weeks off the field in this condition. 

I was worried for his physical and mental health but a small guilty part of me was relieved he’d have some time off from his dangerous job. As proud as I was of him for doing such important, life-saving work, it was difficult knowing the dangers he faced every day and the stretches of long distance when he’d have to travel, usually with little forewarning. I couldn’t count the hours of sleep I’d lost on nights spent alone, anxiety churning my stomach with thoughts of Spencer in danger. When I got the call from Prentiss that he had been kidnapped I had almost thrown up. Having Spencer safely with me for a few weeks would be a much needed break from that stress. Besides, he needed time to process the trauma and heal. 

The nurse went to fetch the doctor and I took Spencer’s hand, going over our plans one more time before leaving. His work phone had been broken by his kidnapper so I gave him my cell and would grab his spare personal phone at his place, so he could text me when the doctors excused him. I kissed his forehead goodbye and he squeezed my hand as we looked at one another regretfully, both feeling uncomfortable with even this short but necessary separation. 

“I’ll have the place all cozy for you when you get back, okay?” I said softly, brushing a strand of hair behind his ear.

“Okay,” he nodded, “thank you,” he said a little balefully. 

Spencer had been independent from such a young age, I knew it was hard for him to accept help but logically he understood he needed it, and I was happy to give it. 

“I’ll see you soon,” I adjusted my cardigan still around his shoulders and kissed him gently right before the doctor rapped on the door and asked to come in.

Spencer smiled at me tiredly and waved as I walked out of the room, giving greetings to the doctor before heading down the hall and out of the building. I was reluctant to leave but I figured if I looked confident it might rub off a little on Spence, plus the faster I moved the more I could prepare for his arrival at the apartment. On the way back to my place, I started to formulate a plan to show him just how dedicated I was to helping him during this time. 

 

I slumped into my apartment, dropping everything by the door and getting to the shower as fast as I could, shedding dirty clothing as I walked. Stepping in to the hot water and letting it surround me felt like heaven. I moved quickly to get clean but gave myself a moment to just breathe and remind myself that Spencer was alive and safe. I got out, towel dried my hair and threw on a favorite pair of jeans and sweater. I was faster than I thought I’d been so I gave myself a little time to do some simple makeup and blow-dry my hair. In ten minutes I felt more like myself than I had in days. 

Next I looked around my little apartment and grabbed some necessities, packing my large suitcase with what I’d need for work, clothing, toiletries, my laptop, some of Spencer’s things he had left previously, and a few random items. As I was scrambling around I saw my childhood stuffed animal that I’d brought with me when I first moved out of my parent’s place for college. I considered the little dog with floppy ears for a moment and then grabbed it too. I did a cursory check around the rest of the place; I’d whipped through it like a tornado and left a mess but didn’t care. Deciding I was ready, I headed out. Looking back once more, I noted that the place didn’t really feel like a home to me anymore. This made me smile as I closed the door behind me; I’d be headed to my real home soon anyway.

 

I moved quickly through the grocery store, grabbing Spencer’s favorites and the ingredients for the homemade chicken noodle soup I would make him tonight, in addition to what I would need to make my special chocolate chip cookies. The whole time I kept feeling the absence of my phone and wished I could text Spencer for updates, checking my watch every few minutes. The longer we were apart the more anxiety built in my gut. I didn’t like this feeling, I knew it was unhealthy, but it made me realize there would be some lasting effects on me as well as him after this experience.

By the time I got in the car with the groceries my hands were shaking and nausea was overcoming me. I let myself just sit in the car for a moment. I shut my eyes and forced myself to take a deep breath and hold it several seconds, letting the oxygen reach my brain. Spencer had taught me this special trick months ago to help with my anxiety. I mentally chanted the mantra to myself,

“breathe in for seven seconds, hold for eight seconds, breathe out for five seconds…” 

It was hard to fight my own impatience, but after the third exhale my body relaxed measurably and I felt safe to drive. 

 

I carried all the groceries in at once, in no mood for a second trip. I got inside the apartment and scanned the room almost instinctually for danger before setting everything on the counter. Spencer hadn’t been taken from here, but it felt strange for a moment being here without him. My mind continued to plan out and whirl as I unpacked the groceries and got to cooking, and as the smell of food filled the apartment I felt more comfortable. I looked up as I stirred the soup, able to see the living room from the little kitchen, taking in the dark wooden bookshelves full of his impressive library, the high ceilings, the blankets and pillows and mismatched socks and extraneous books all strewn about, and smiled.

I left the soup to simmer and my cookies to bake and walked around the apartment, cleaning up as I went. I threw Spencer’s laundry in the wash and opened the windows to let in the fresh air and light. Then I unpacked most of my things, making space for myself in his little closet and finding a spare box to serve the rest of my clothing storage needs. I considered putting my silly stuffed animal on the bed but decided to save it for later. I looked around the apartment and felt it was much improved. The cookies were finished and the soup almost done when Spencer’s spare phone in its charging station on the kitchen counter lit up and rang out. I practically jumped it and answered on the first ring. 

“Hey! You all done? Everything alright?” you asked, 

“Yeah,” you heard Spencer sigh, sounding tired but relieved. “it’s good to hear your voice.”

My heart swelled a little. “Yours too,” I murmured, “I’m on my way, I’ll be there in 15.”

“Okay,” he said softly, “looking forward to it.” 

I said goodbye and hung up, then scrambled to grab my purse, cover the soup, turn off the stove, and jolt out the door. I couldn’t wait to bring him home.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emotions and bath bombs.

When I pulled up in the ER pickup area a stocky nurse wheeled out a tired-looking Spencer in a wheelchair. I felt nervous at the sight of the chair, momentarily wondering if perhaps Spencer would be better off staying in the hospital, but the nurse explained to me that Spencer just needed to avoid jostling his ribs as much as possible for the next few days as it would only exacerbate his pain. 

The nurse added that he thought Spencer was doing well and could begin moving around a bit after another day. Spencer carefully got in the car with the aid of the nurse, and I gave the nurse my thanks as he wheeled the chair back inside. I got in the driver’s seat and took Spencer’s hand, leaning over to kiss his cheek. 

“How ‘bout we get out of here?” I said lightly, squeezing his hand, 

“Yes, please,” Spencer said with a tired smile. 

Physically I thought he looked a little better, the circles under his eyes lighter, more color in his cheeks and lips. But something about his demeanor seemed withdrawn and it worried me. I was sure he had had a difficult day; it was only the start of his recovery. I reminded myself that I shouldn’t expect him to get back to his cheery self within a day-- he needed time.   
Bringing his hand up to my lips, I kissed his knuckle, 

“Let’s go home,” I smiled. 

He nodded and we were off. I drove as carefully as I could, avoiding any rough roads by taking side streets while Spence fiddled with the radio. If he felt more himself he probably would have protested this treatment adding to our driving time by telling me exactly how much longer it would take us to reach his apartment by using these indirect avenues, but his ribs must have hurt enough that he was grateful for the gentle ride and he said little. 

We reached the building and I pulled up as close to the door as I could. The sun was starting to set, and a cold wind was sweeping through. Spencer let me help him out of the car and leaned on me as I helped him gingerly get into the building. As we waited for the elevator he kept his arm wrapped around my waist and kissed my head as a silent thank you. We were both pretty quiet, just letting our movements speak for us as we navigated in this new way together. 

We got upstairs and I unlocked the door, opening it with a smile, 

“Welcome home!” I said, watching his face take in the tidied space and the smell of soup and cookies with a smile. 

He visibly relaxed somewhat as he made his way inside. I removed his coat and scarf with care and helped him to the couch. 

“Let’s get you comfortable,” I said softly, arranging pillows behind his back and wrapping him in a dark fluffy blanket. 

“Such service,” he chuckled at me, but he seemed embarrassed. 

“Tea?” I asked, heading to the kettle, “do you want to get settled a minute before we eat? Or are you hungry now?” 

“My appetite is still… coming back,” he grimaced. I understood the feeling of being so hungry you felt nauseous, and therefore not hungry. 

“Let’s start with tea then,” I said, prepping two mugs. 

I joined him at the couch, lifting his legs momentarily so I could sit and set them in my lap. He took his mug with a quiet thanks, smiling a little as he noticed I’d given him his favorite mug that had an illustration of Nikola Tesla and a pigeon. 

“So….” I started nervously, “I know this is the most anxiety-inducing way to start a conversation but I need to talk about something.”

Spencer winced but nodded, seeming resigned. I was worried he was misinterpreting things, so I took his hand and got him to meet my gaze.

“First of all… I love you. So very much.”

At this he blushed, but tilted his head, letting me continue. 

“I can’t…. I don’t know about everything that happened. I have no idea what you went through or how you felt. I was terrified when you were gone,” he squeezed my hand at this as I took a deep breath, “but I can talk about that later. Right now I’m focused on you.”

“I want you to understand… that I am going to be here,” I held his gaze as I spoke, his beautiful brown eyes watching me. 

“I do not for one second regret being with you. You do not owe me anything. I want to help you…. I need to help you through this. I love you. And loving means a lot of things, including being there for each other no matter what, and I am here for you.” 

I took another deep breath, this one a little uneven and shaky, 

“I know…. You didn’t have that much growing up. Someone looking out for you. But you, Spence… god you deserve it. You deserve love, and to heal, and be happy, and if it takes you awhile to get through this, that’s okay. I’m gonna be here.” 

Tears were filling my eyes at this point but I could still speak steadily. Spencer just looked on at me in love and something akin to wonder.

“I’m sorry if I’m babbling,” I continued, “I just- you know how misunderstandings and miscommunication makes me anxious, so I just wanted to lay it all out there… I want to be here to help you, and I don’t want you to feel guilty for anything while you’re recovering. Anything you need, please ask,” I was almost pleading at this point. 

I was just so scared the man I love would block me out in this difficult time, as a way to shield himself from accepting love he thought he didn’t deserve, or shield me from his painful memories. I wouldn’t have any of that and I prayed I was making it clear. Spencer was so smart but sometimes it was hard for him to understand, and sometimes I didn’t translate well. 

But I think he understood. Because he leaned forward as much as he could and I met him the rest of the way, and we kissed, just holding each other for a moment, before we broke apart and he brushed my tears away. 

“I understand,” he said softly, smiling, “thank you. I’m… I’m just glad you’re here. For so many reasons. I love you too.” 

I almost giggled in relief and kissed his cheek. 

“There, now that’s settled,” I said almost to myself, and he smiled back as I pretended to try to straighten his messy hair. 

“How about a bowl of chicken noodle soup and some cookies and a bath and cuddles?” I asked all at once in a rush. 

In response Spencer’s stomach gurgled almost immediately. We laughed and I got us both bowls so we could eat on the couch. Neither of us much had the energy for conversation, so we flipped through channels on his old tv. Out of the corner of my eye I monitored how he was eating. He was slow at first, just starting with sips of the hot broth, but gradually worked his way to the meat and noodles and vegetables and I watched color and warmth return to his skin. 

We found an old movie to watch and finished up our meal with more tea and cookies. I laughed when he moaned after taking the first bite of cookie-- they’d turned out really well. We sat relaxing for awhile, shifting around on the couch so Spencer could lean against me and I could hold him. When the movie credits started to roll I kissed his temple and asked softly, “How does a bath sound?” 

He sighed, “Heavenly, I still feel pretty grimy,” tilting his head back against me. 

I chuckled, “Yeah, I know the feeling.”

I helped him stand and we moved carefully to the bathroom together. I smiled to myself, glad I’d thought ahead and prepared. When we opened the door he saw that I had cleaned and carefully arranged all his shower products near the tub so he could reach them in the bath without straining his ribs, and had brought in plenty of towels, a robe, and candles. 

“What did I do to win this spa trip?” He laughed, 

I shrugged, “Plenty, you were long overdue for some spoiling.”

I started the water and showed him the bath bomb I’d brought from my house that I’d been saving and told him his bath would be bright blue and extra bubbly, earning another little laugh.

I sobered up a little as I helped him undress carefully, starting by removing the cardigan I had given to him at the hospital that he had worn home, then unbuttoning his shirt. I felt anxious; I hadn’t seen the full extent of his injuries yet but quickly they were revealed to me and I felt my heart sympathetically pang in my chest at the sight. 

A deep purple bruise surrounded by a yellowing halo started near the top left of his rib cage and wrapped around his side. I took in a stuttering breath and forced myself to look up at him. He only gazed back at me sadly, his lips pursed. I unbuttoned his pants and slid those and his boxer briefs off too, and saw some more deep bruising on his lower thighs as if he had been kicked. 

Seeing this beautiful body that I love marred and hurt like this, and imagining the emotional pain that accompanied these marks made me feel sick and achingly sad. I kissed a spot right above the big rib bruise gently, wishing I had the power to take away all this hurt. Spencer brushed a hand through my hair and held my face for a moment, and we let our eyes speak our sympathies and mutual pain. 

He asked if I’d like to join him in the bath but the tub was too small for both of us to fit comfortably and for him to be able to sit in a way that wouldn’t hurt his ribs. He looked disappointed, 

“If you just bathe me while you’re in jeans I really will feel like a little kid,” Spencer protested. I chuckled. 

“Fine, I’ll put on your robe and stick my feet in,” I replied, tested the almost full tub.

I threw the bath bomb in and started undressing as we both watched the bomb fizz and the water turn cerulean. I noticed he still watched me out of the corner of his eye, almost habitually, like my bare skin was necessary to see when it was revealed. It felt comforting somehow. I slid his raggedy blue bathrobe on and tied it loosely so I wouldn’t be cold, then moved to help him into the tub. Spencer slowly sank down into the hot water, sighing as he went. 

“How’s the temperature?” I asked, letting him settle as I lit some candles. 

 

“Perfect,” he moaned, tilting his head back. 

I kneeled against the tub and used an old cup to rinse and wash his hair, avoiding the bandaged gash on his forehead with care. He made comforted noises as I massaged his scalp and poured the warm water down his neck. I sat on the edge of the tub and stuck my legs in and he leaned back against them. I took a moment to play with his hair and appreciate his relaxed face. After a few minutes I spoke,

“How are you feeling, sweetheart?”

“Better,” Spencer sighed heavily, reaching back to take my hand. He rested our joined hands on his shoulder. “Thank you. I really don’t know…. What I would be doing without you right now.”

I kissed the top of his wet head, 

“I just want to do all that I can. If there’s anything else you need, please, for your sake and mine, let me know,” I said softly.

He tilted his head back to look up at me quizzically at this statement. I sighed, 

“I just… I know you’ve been through something like this before, and you had to do it alone. But I never want you to feel alone like that again,” I brushed the hair out of his eyes. 

He looked solemn for a moment but then his eyes softened.

“I’ll try…. To let you in and let you know how I’m feeling. I’ll let you know if it’s hard and I need help,” he promised. 

I sighed gratefully, “Thank you.” He understood me, knew how to calm my anxieties and let me in to love him. I kissed his forehead and just let myself relax in that moment. 

. . .

We sat there until the water turned lukewarm, then I helped him up, toweled him off, and took off the robe I was wearing to wrap him in. He hugged me from behind to keep my naked self warm as we shuffled together from the bathroom to the bedroom and put on cozy pajamas. Spence told me to climb in bed first, then he arranged himself to be resting against me, so I held his head against my chest. We agreed to keep our bedside lamp on so Spencer could see where he was if he woke up from a nightmare. 

I held him close, worried he would have an uneasy night, but tried to emanate calm and love from my body to his. Spencer copied the pace of my breathing, gradually relaxing and falling asleep. I was exhausted but had a harder time slipping off, fearful of sleeping through an episode if he were to have one, but as it got later and his breathing stayed even, I gradually let myself float into sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lol raise your hand if you have an anxiety disorder and had a terrible week and wrote extremely fluffy fanfic to feel better. Still having a good time writing this and thinking about a lot of new ideas, including origins of the two meeting. Let me know if you like? Thanks for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "How did we meet? We bonded over socks."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Delving into the past and a bit of literary discussion mentioning "The Handmaid's Tale", a very interesting novel I've researched lately. If you're interested in it I recommend the audio adaptation done by the podcast Secrets, Crimes, and Audiotapes, it's free and has great voice acting!

At 2:13 my eyes flew open. I looked down to see Spencer had twisted my sleep shirt into his fists, his eyes closed and face drawn into a grimace. His long body was curled around me and he was twitching in a pattern, drawing into himself as if bracing for something before he would suddenly spasm, his legs flinching up. His body was moving as if he was being kicked, over and over and over again, I realized as my stomach dropped. 

With hushed sounds and gentle touches I managed to calm him down without waking him, watching his whole body gradually relax, his hands releasing my shirt, his face untwisting. Once again his breathing slowed to deep and even, and I kissed his forehead, hoping the rest of his night was dreamless. 

I was now awake, feeling very aware of Spencer in my arms and how close I’d been to never having him here again. That anxiety was back, worming its way into my mind and forcing horrifying images into my brain of what he’d endured, what I’d almost lost. I didn’t want my brain going down this path again. Looking around, I saw Spencer’s feet had kicked out from under the covers and I caught sight of his mismatched socks, one with a pattern of dinosaurs, one with a pattern of pugs. I smiled, reminded of our first meeting. I decided to close my eyes and remember all I could from that first fateful encounter as I stroked sleeping Spencer’s hair. 

... 

 

I had been working on final exams for my last semester in graduate school. I had gotten my Bachelor of Fine Arts degree majoring in illustration and happily freelanced for several years but my interest in the medical field, despite my squeamishness about hospitals, had driven me to pursue a masters in medical illustration. It had been a cloudy day near Johns Hopkins where I was attending, and I could no longer focus in my shitty apartment or the school’s expansive but drab libraries. I had been in a depressive state for a few weeks at the time; the last semester of school was always the hardest and I was feeling overwhelmed and detached.

Without thinking about it too much I took the cheap, short train ride to DC and found a bustling little coffee shop. The energy and noise in the place finally gave me what I needed to focus. I ordered a cappuccino, added a sprinkle of cinnamon, and found a little rectangular table in the back near a window-- perfect.

I hadn’t had time or patience to do laundry in awhile so I was down to some of my more odd clothing and hadn’t paid too much attention while I was getting dressed. My hair was shorter then, stopping just at the line of the neck of my thin grey turtleneck, tucked into some high-waisted maroon vintage trousers, and I was jiggling one foot crossed over my leg as I hunched over my laptop to work. This was probably how Spencer first noticed my socks, patterned with the image of fried eggs, peeking out over my oxford shoes. 

One minute I was focused on examining arteries, the next I heard a slight cough, looked up, and felt my world shift. Tall above me, arms tucked in to make his gangly form even slimmer to accommodate the bustle of people around him, was the most attractive person I had ever seen. 

Not attractive in the socially popular way that felt unattainable and so far detached from my reality it felt unattractive, but attractive in that I was somehow looking at an amalgamation of all of my personal favorite physical traits. Tall and slim, messy brown curls, deep set and intelligent brown eyes, lips that were too full and pink to be real-- and for some reason, trying to get my attention. 

“Ah, sorry to interrupt you,” he spoke quickly, just loud enough to be heard over the bustle, his voice sounding a little high and strained as if he was nervous, “I just was looking around for a place to work and I noticed, well…” 

He was grinning, shifting the books he was carrying under the same arm he held his coffee in to lean down and pull up the leg of his pants slightly, revealing his right foot to be donned with the same patterned fried egg sock. He laughed, a short, dry, wonderful sound. I immediately smiled back at him, enchanted. 

“Oh wow! I found these in the men’s section but I loved the pattern so much I didn’t care. I think I bought some with bulldogs too?” I was babbling, my brain incoherent. 

He quirked an eyebrow at me and then shifted, pulling up his left pant leg. “Do you mean this pattern?”

And there it was, the same bulldogs. I laughed aloud. “That’s kind of amazing!” 

“Well, you have good taste in socks,” he chuckled. “I was actually also wondering if I could share that table with you? I came here to work as well but no other spots are free.”

“Ah, of course!” I replied, moving my bag and papers out of his way swiftly. He plopped down with some very heavy tombs, making sure to set them on the table carefully so they wouldn’t jostle my coffee. I eyed the huge books-- some medical, some philosophical, and for some reason on the very top, a worn copy of "The Handmaid’s Tale", a 1980’s feminist dystopian novel. Curious and eager to learn more about this beautiful person, I asked him, 

“What’s uh, what’s with that combo of books? Seems a little unusual, what are you studying?” 

In a flash I regretted it, wondering if I should have just shut up and let him get to work. I needn’t have worried-- his eyes lit up at my interest. 

“It’s actually for a very interesting cold case I’ve been investigating in my free time, I believe these kidnappers from several years ago were inspired by the Gilead society in "The Handmaid’s Tale" to take young mothers to be used as breeders--” He stopped short at my raising eyebrows, blushing slightly, “Sorry, I-I should explain, I work for the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI…”

“Wait, sorry,” I interrupted, “it’s been a few years since I’ve read "The Handmaid’s Tale", but if someone is inspired by this book to take women, wouldn’t it more likely be a couple? Perhaps one who can’t conceive on their own?” 

He nodded vigorously, “Yes, correct! But because of the extremely misogynistic society displayed in the book---” 

I cut in again, “-- It definitely wouldn’t be an equal partnership, the woman would want to be able to conceive for her dominant husband, like Serena Joy for the Commander, but then why would he be willing to work with her at all if he deems her so inferior? Unless--” 

“--Unless the team is being dominated by a character like Serena Joy who is desperate to find a surrogate that will please her husband?” he joined, “Perhaps instead of the Commander it’s a personality more like Nick, the driver, working together with the woman?” 

I pinched my lower lip in thought, “Perhaps, but his nature was more ambiguous and in the end arguably dominant… what if it’s two women? Someone with the nature of Offred? Both desperate to provide a child in some way for their own reasons, one to please her husband and the other to avoid punishment?” 

The man whose name I still didn’t know rubbed his chin in thought, brows furrowed. “It’s all different pairing possibilities.... maybe restudying the methodology of the kidnappings…?” He appeared lost in thought for a moment, as if new ideas were blooming. He seemed to be jolted back to reality after a moment and his eyes cut back to me, looking curious. 

“Thank you, it was really helpful to consider a new interpretation. Oh, we haven’t introduced ourselves have we?” He dropped his hand from his face and fidgeted with his coffee for a moment before outstretching his hand, looking a little uncertain. At the time I had no idea why, after a very sudden and intriguing conversation about crime and literature, he would appear scared to take my hand, but I took his gently and gave it a quick pump. 

“I’m Dr. Spencer Reid,” he smiled, 

“I’m Y/N Y/L/N,” I grinned back, “No doctorate unfortunately.” 

We chatted in that little corner for hours, both of us forgetting our original reasons for being there before remembering and relaying to the other as part of explaining the basics of our lives. He lived near Quantico, had been working in the FBI for awhile, loved the work but was using some vacation days for a little break. Of course Spencer’s idea of a break was to study cold cases. 

As the sun was starting to set I realized I needed to leave before I would have to make it to the train and home in the dark. We both apologized profusely to each other for being such a distraction, and both assured the other that the distraction had been welcome and a pleasure. Spencer flicked a business card out, seemingly from nowhere, and asked if I’d call him next time I was around or if I wanted access to any of the resources he could provide relevant to my medical illustration work. By the end of those hours of talking I didn’t feel as nervous, and my tongue stayed steady as I looked him in the eyes and sincerely thanked him, feeling lighter than I had in weeks. 

I called him sooner rather than later, wanting to meet again before he would have to go back to work. From then on we started meeting up and going on little outings, often bringing each other small gifts relevant to previous conversations. An unusual acquaintance turned into an exciting and flirtatious friendship that gave me something fun to look forward to during the stressful end of my schooling. 

Finally, a week before I was to graduate, as we strolled around a lovely park with flowering trees overhead, he picked a fallen petal out of my hair and asked if I’d like to go out to dinner next weekend to celebrate my achievement. My heart fluttered like that petal to the ground as I agreed, and from there our relationship flourished. 

 

….

 

I had been single for a long time before Spencer. After several abusive relationships and years of therapy and rebuilding my self confidence, I realized I didn’t want to let anyone in again unless I felt as sure as I could that they wouldn’t use me. I just didn’t have the patience to be hurt anymore, and for a long time the very idea of a relationship made my stomach churn with nerves. All the unknowable factors, all the what ifs, all the vulnerability terrified me. 

But with Spencer I found myself opening to him easily. I think because, for once, the vulnerability was being reciprocated. I told him about my parents’ emotional abuse; he opened up to me about his parents’ divorce. I explained to him my desire to put good into the world; he relayed his desire to protect the good for those that couldn’t.

As we got closer physically and revealed our own body issues, we found the other’s flaws to be beautiful, but both understood that self-consciousness that haunts throughout a lifetime. I told him things I had never told anyone, like how none of my partners had ever kissed me in a car for as long as I really wanted. From then on he would kiss me slowly and passionately at the end of almost every car ride. He taught me so much about understanding people and the nature of the universe, and I taught him about art and humanity’s compulsion to create. We were different, but we fit together. Like puzzle pieces who had stumbled together and locked into place upon some great fortune. 

 

….

 

In bed I phased out of my reverie as Spencer took a deep breath in his sleep and sighed deeply in my arms. I hummed to him softly as I stroked his forehead with my thumb, wishing I could cast a spell of good dreams. Feeling my vision fuzz and my eyelids droop, I pressed my lips to his head and let them stay there as I fell back asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading and your kind comments, I really appreciate the responses. I pulled an all nighter last night for school and still haven't slept but managed to crank out another chapter, I'll try to keep updating regularly. Much love <3


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pure mush.

I dreamt I was inside a forest. I woke up on the forest floor, everything was blurry except the shape of footprints leading away. I followed them, slowly at first, then sprinting, flying, and suddenly realized I was shouting. I screamed his name one last time before I felt a hand brush my face and opened my eyes.  
  
Spencer looked down at me with concern in his eyes. I was worried I’d been screaming and started,  
  
“Oh god, Spencer I’m so sorry--”  
  
“Why?” he cocked his head, brushing my cheek again, “You just started to move and I heard you whispering my name, are you okay?”  
  
I sighed, relieved the screaming had been in my own head.  
  
“Yeah, I’m okay, just a dream. I’m sorry I woke you,” I drew him in for a kiss, ignoring our morning breath.  
  
Our lips pressed softly and he rested his forehead against mine for a moment.  
  
“How did you sleep, love?” I murmured.  
  
“Oh, you know…” Spencer sighed and rolled onto his less-bruised side, wincing a little.  
  
“That bad, huh?” I grimaced in sympathy, combing my fingers through his hair.  
  
“Hmm it was,” he hummed, “I was in the middle of...reliving it…. When I heard your voice,”  
  
Spencer’s voice got softer as he spoke and he took my hand, kissing my palm. He looked up at me with those big doe eyes, haunted but still lovely.  
  
“Thank you, Y/N. I really don’t know where I’d be without you--- well no, I do know,” He sighed again, shutting his eyes, shutting out too many painful memories.  
  
I drew him close, enveloping him as much as I could. “You will never be alone like that again. Not as long as you’ll have me around,” I said, with more fierceness than I had intended. The thought of him going through this alone, and knowing he’d had to in the past, just broke my heart.  
  
Spencer kissed my collarbone as it peeked out of my shirt and I heard him mumble, “I will never not want you around.”  
  
I blushed, wanting to believe him. After all I had been through it was hard for me to accept those words. But Spencer was the best person I knew, and I wanted with all of my heart to believe him. I looked down and tilted his face up by his chin.  
  
“Good, then we’re agreed,” I said, then brushed over the scruff around his face, “It’s been a minute since you’ve shaved, huh?” a hint of joking in my voice.  
  
“Yeah, I’ve been a little tied up,” he chuckled. My eyebrows shot up at this deceptively dark line but I figured cracking a joke about the situation might lead to further opening up, so I didn’t question it.  
  
“Well how about you take care of that while I make us brunch?” I asked, kissing his nose.  
  
“Yesss” he hissed, “you’re the best at brunch.”  
  
I giggled, “I mean, you’re not wrong. Blueberry pancakes? Bacon? Coffee?”  
  
Spencer nodded emphatically to make me laugh again. We stayed in each other’s arms for a few moments longer before moving to the bathroom and kitchen separately.

I had just added the first pancakes to one pan while bacon sizzled in another when Spencer reappeared by my side, freshly shaved. He looked more like his old self now, and had added on his slippers and robe.  
  
I smiled and kissed his smooth cheek, “Looking good, Spence.”

He pressed his lips together as they curled up in a little happy smile. He insisted on helping me make the coffee but I made him sit the rest of the time. He had refused pain medication at the hospital, and while he merely seemed to show a little stiffness today, I was sure he was in some pain from those deep bruises splotching his skin. I flipped the pancakes and turned around to leaned over the counter and wrap my hands around his.  
  
“Let me know if you need to lie down, okay?” I asked softly, sincerely needing to know how his body was doing. He nodded back, relaxing in the chair a little.  
  
“I want to be alright…but it may take a little while…” he admitted quietly.  
  
“Of course, love. I don’t expect you to be alright today. Heck, I’m still not alright. But we’re here together. We can take our time.”  
  
He smiled up at me.  
  
“Okay.”

I had so many emotions from the past week and they felt jumbled up and confusing inside me. Part of me was still terrified and almost couldn’t believe Spencer was here with me, alive. Part of me was hugely overjoyed and wanted to constantly hold him and smother him in love. Part of me was scared of disrespecting the trauma he had been through-- I could sympathize but not empathize, as I had never been kidnapped and tortured, let alone twice. I was just doing my best to push down this swirl of emotions and focus on what Spencer needed.

I continued to bustle around the kitchen and was singing to myself out of habit. Out of the corner of my eye I caught Spencer watching me.  
  
“What?” I laughed, catching his stare.  
  
“Nothing!” Spencer startled, “I just… I really love your voice. Would you sing for me later?” He asked, almost shyly.  
  
I blushed, pleased, and nodded. I loved singing but never had much time for it anymore. I had taken vocal lessons as a child, grew up singing for a few friends’ bands and taught myself guitar to play at coffee shops, but I was never a good enough instrumentalist to feel like it could go anywhere. Plus, I was certainly not a songwriter. Spencer had only ever heard me habitually sing as I did chores, but he knew about my past with music. I was always curious about his voice but had never heard him sing. Maybe I could get the BAU gang to join us for karaoke sometime, I thought absentmindedly as I flipped bacon and poured out more pancake batter.

Spencer was quiet in his slippers so he startled me when I suddenly felt arms wrap around my waist. I tensed but relaxed as he rested his head on my shoulder.  
  
“You okay?” I murmured, keeping my eye on the stove.  
  
“Mhmm, just wanna hold you,” he replied softly, burying his face into my neck.

I felt my heart melt and my knees wobble. How can you love one person this much, I thought to myself. How can one person be everything? I took a deep breath.  
  
“So, what do you want to do today? Stay in or maybe get some fresh air?”  
  
His arms loosened slightly as he seemed to hesitate,  
  
“I… I really don’t know? It’s a little hard… to plan ahead right now. Can we just take the day a step at a time?”  
  
I nodded, “Of course sweetheart, we’ll eat and then see what we feel like.”  
  
I figured those four days spent in darkness and torture must’ve made the usual pacing of a day feel like a strange and distant thing. After we both got a little settled I would try to set up a normal routine for him, I decided. Something to ground himself here and not feel like he could go floating back to that dark place. Things to look forward to.

….

After brunch I cleaned up the kitchen and started planning our next few meals. Spencer wanted to try to tidy up the bedroom on his own but promised to call out to me if he needed assistance. I was studying the contents of the fridge, thinking of Spencer’s favorite comfort foods and in which order I should make them, when I heard a little shuffle and cough behind me and turned around.  
  
Spencer stood by the doorway holding-- to my chagrin-- my old stuffed animal. He must’ve found it in the closet where I’d tucked it away earlier. He clutched it carefully, holding it close to his chest.  
  
“You really are… You really do want to move in with me, huh? You’ve had him since you were three, I know you wouldn’t want to live anywhere without him,” Spencer said, softly eyeing the old toy and then me.  
  
I blushed, embarrassed at my own childishness and how easy it must be for Spencer to read me. But I had decided to stop being afraid of the profiler in him a long time ago, knowing it was just part of how he interacted with the world. I approached him and wrapped my hands around his neck, the little dog toy pressed between us.  
  
“Well now… I don’t want to live anywhere without either of you,” I said, almost at a whisper.

I was still feeling a little silly but my sentiment was true and I wanted him to understand, so I looked into his eyes. I saw no mocking in them, only incredible tenderness and a small smile. He brought a hand to my face and caressed it lovingly with his thumb before pulling me in for a slow kiss. It made me feel lightheaded, my affection for this man and his care for me. He handed me back the dog and I cradled it to my chest automatically, as I had since I was a child. Spencer wrapped his long arms around me and kissed my head. I breathed in deep, the scents of Spencer and my childhood toy flooding my brain with a feeling of belonging, of being truly home.

…

The rest of the morning and early afternoon was spent with me puttering about, cooking and fussing over Spencer, as he laid on the couch with ice packs on his ribs and legs. His bruising had started to ache but he would not take pain medication, as we had previously discussed. He had a pretty high pain tolerance and was trying not to worry me but I could tell the bone-deep ache was getting to him.

“Maybe the best thing for now would be some sleep?” I asked, sympathetically wincing as he gave a painful-sounding cough. 

“Yeah, maybe…” He looked doubtful and worried.

I was concerned about his fear of nightmares hindering his ability to rest. I certainly couldn’t blame him for being scared to close his eyes after all he had witnessed. I wanted to do everything I could to put him in a place of calm and help him relax and sleep easy. I went over to the couch and kneeled down.  
  
“Will you let me try to help?” I asked, taking his hand, “I’ll try to make you as comfortable as possible and then stay right here while you sleep, so if you seem to be having a bad dream I can help you out of it. Would that be okay?”  
  
He nodded. His dark circles were still quite prominent; I was sure his body was still desperate for rest. I started by making the room more cozy, closing the white shades on the curtains so the room was still lit by the afternoon sun but not as blinding. I made him chamomile tea with plenty of honey and lit a lavender candle on the coffee table. Then I carefully changed the bandage on his forehead and checked on the bruises on his ribs. The forehead cut looked a little less inflamed, but the bruises had only shifted colors in some places, changing into a sickly chartreuse and orange in the areas around the reddened purple. I grimaced-- while his ribs would heal in six weeks, I guessed the bruising would mar him for even longer. Poor Spence.  
  
His shoulders and neck were mostly unmarked so I asked if he’d like a massage, to which he emphatically accepted-- I was a master at shoulder rubs. Helping him sit up slightly on the couch, I kneaded his tense shoulders and neck, pushing upwards slowly with my thumbs, gradually digging in deeper to reach the tough knots. He made soft little groans of appreciation as I unlocked each knot that I could reach, then ran my nails through his hair, rubbing his scalp. I could practically hear his eyes rolling back in his head and chuckled. When I was done I carefully laid him back down on the pillows and covered him in blankets.  
  
“That,” he exhaled, “was amazing. How are you not paid to do that. You have magic hands.”  
  
I giggled at him and leaned down to kiss his forehead.  
  
“Feeling ready to nap yet?” I asked,

He nodded, “Almost. Could you… could you sing for me now?”  
  
I smiled, taking my stuffed dog from where we had left it on the coffee table and nestling it in his arms. He grinned and gave it a little squeeze, understanding it was my most special comfort item I was offering. I sat on a pillow on the floor by the couch and ran my fingers through his hair, and began to softly sing:

  
_I’m lying on the moon_

_My dear, I’ll be there soon_

_It’s a quiet, starry place_

I watched his eyelids slide shut as I continued,

  
_Time’s we’re swallowed up_

 _In space we’re here a million miles away…_  
  
I continued to the end of the song, even though I was sure he was asleep by the second verse. Part of me was singing for myself as well, I thought. For a few minutes I watched Spencer take deep, even breaths, arms wrapped around my childhood toy. Eventually I got up, chose a book from his expansive collection, and sat on the armchair by the couch, tucking in to watch over him as he napped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song is "The Moon Song" by Karen O. I finally have a little time on my hands before my life gets even more busy so I'll try to write more while I can.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Spencer opens up and there's a lot of tears. 
> 
> TW for descriptions of violence/torture/abuse, but it's not very detailed.

The sun had started to set in the late winter afternoon. Spencer continued to doze and I had no intention of interrupting his peaceful rest-- he needed as much sleep as he could get. I read for a few chapters but realized I would be sitting there longer than I first thought. I had a few freelance projects I needed to finish as well as needing to respond to a consultation request for a new medical textbook being published, so I quietly worked on my laptop as I listened to Spencer’s gentle snores. 

I couldn’t help but steal random glances over at him often. His brown bangs curled over his forehead, his pink lips and eyebrows occasionally twitching with his slow breathing, his long arms cradling my stuffed dog. He was too tall to fit on the couch, and his mismatched patterned socks stuck out of the quilt over the rest of him and laid on the arm of the couch. He was beautiful. 

It was during one of these long glances that I felt my phone buzz against my leg and cause me to almost jump in surprise. The caller ID showed it was Penelope. I quietly tiptoed out of the living room and into the bedroom, shutting the door behind me, before I answered. 

“Hey Pen,” I said softly, 

“Y/N! I haven’t spoken to you since we got Spencer back, how’s it going? Are you with him? How’s he doing? How are you doing?” Penelope’s bright voice practically jumped at me through the phone, clearly full of concern and wanting answers. 

“Hah, I know Pen, I’m sorry I haven’t contacted you or the rest of the team, it’s honestly been kind of a blur. I mean, it still feels like he just got back, you know? I think we both just need to take it slow,” I murmured into the phone. 

I was grateful when she seemed to understand my mood through my tone of voice and she dropped her volume a bit down to my level. 

“Oh sweetie, that’s okay, you both need time to recover I’m sure. Is he resting?” she asked, 

“Yeah,” I replied, “he needs more sleep, and I think mentally and physically it’s going to take awhile, but I’m just… I’m just so glad he’s here,” my voice broke a little as I felt my eyes water but I tried to talk through it, “I’m doing as much as I can, and we’ve got doctor and therapy visits coming up… he’s been eating pretty good, though I worry about how much pain he’s in, not to mention the trauma…” all my concerns were bubbling to the surface now that someone had actually inquired about them. 

“Woah Y/N, it’s okay, slow down,” said Penelope gently, “I’m sure you’re giving him everything he needs. We’ve all seen you two together, I’ve no doubt he’s in the best hands. Now how are you?”

My eyes spilled over at her kindness-- Penelope had had a special place in my heart for a long time, and it was moments like this that made me so grateful to have her in my life. 

“I’m--I’m a lot of things right now, Pen, mostly I’m just so thankful he’s here and alive but part of it almost doesn’t feel real and it’s scary, but I’m going to move in here properly so I can be with him, and I still don’t know exactly what happened and if I should ask or how else I can help him, and I just want to hold him all the time but I don’t want to suffocate him, and--” I blubbered on, but Penelope cut in, 

“Honey, honey, it’s okay. You’re not in this alone, you don’t have to be his only support system and you need some help too right now. Everyone on the team wants to know how we can help, and you guys have time to rest and heal. It’s all gonna be okay.” 

I took deep breaths and wiped my eyes as she spoke. I was worried Spencer would wake up and hear me crying and misinterpret what was happening, so I kept my voice low as I spoke, 

“Thanks Pen, I think we’ll take a few more days to ourselves here and then maybe we can have some visitors? If that’s okay?”

“Of course, Y/N,” Penelope cooed, “I’ll let everyone else know. Take care of yourself and our boy, okay?”

“Mhmm,” I replied, nodding to myself with a little smile, “Thanks Penelope. I’ll talk to you soon. Love you, bye.” 

I hung up and wiped my eyes again with my wrists, then sat looking at my hands for a few minutes. It was nice of her to call, and probably good for me to talk about my feelings and be reminded that I wasn’t in this situation alone. I wondered if anyone had contacted Spencer’s mother. I hadn’t had the chance to meet her yet since she lived all the way out in Las Vegas, but she and Spencer communicated regularly and I was sure if he went too long without responding she would be worried. 

I shook my head, beginning to feel overwhelmed, and quietly left the bedroom to rejoin Spencer in the living room. He slept on, I was thankful to see. I brushed some hair away from his eyes and kissed his forehead, my lips light and soft as a petal. The sun was starting to set and I knew we would both be hungry soon, so I set off to the kitchen to make us homemade mac and cheese. 

… 

I had a nice little plan for the evening formed in my head so I went about cooking as quietly as possible in the hopes that Spence would stay sleeping. I grated three different cheeses and reduced my habitual singing to a soft hum, creating a pot full of gooey comfort food. I then set up our food and drinks on the couch, found an interesting movie on TV, and knelt down to wake Spencer. 

I kissed him softly and called his name, cradling his face in my hand. 

“Wake up sweetie, I’ve got dinner all ready for you, you don’t even need to get up,” I murmured. 

His eyelids fluttered open and he smiled when he saw me, but then closed his eyes again. 

“Hmmm only if you kiss me again,” he croaked teasingly. 

“But it’s mac and cheese,” I said in a sing-songy voice, “one of your favorites!” 

One eyelid slid open with an eyebrow raised, and then both opened as he took in the coffee table spread with hearty food and tea and the black and white movie playing behind me. At the sight of this he released his hold on my stuffed animal to pull me down by the neck and kiss me squarely, giving it a surprising amount of passion for his sleepy and injured state. 

“How do you do it,” he asked, kissing me once more on the nose, “Why do you do this. What could I have possibly done.” 

“You know what you do,” I laughed at our nonsensical phrasing, “You’re the best and you need to eat mac and cheese now and then you can sleep some more but with me next to you.”

He faked a pained groan, “Fine, you’ve convinced me.” 

I helped him prop up a bit more on the couch and we ate. I was happy to see him steadily eating, and he even asked for a second bowl. His skin had begun to look less sallow, his dark circles fading even more. 

We finished eating, our full bellies making both of us sleepy. I laid on the couch and had him carefully laid on top of me. We watched the rest of the movie in comfortable silence, but neither of us paid much attention to the film. I was slowly combing my fingers through his hair, kissing the top of his head often, enjoying the scent and feel of him alive and safe in my arms. Spencer held my other hand against his chest, lifting it up to study my palm, rub it thoughtfully with his thumb, kissing each finger like it was a blessing to hold. The movie stopped but neither of us noticed, both wrapped up in each other’s presence, quietly loving the other. 

After the credits had rolled and obnoxious commercials blared on the television, Spencer turned down the volume and looked up at me with dark eyes.

“Can I talk to you about something?” he asked quietly, rubbing my hand like he was trying to counteract the anxiety he knew would come with that statement. My stomach clenched minutely but I nodded, kissing his head once more. 

“I’ve been thinking…” he continued, “my first therapy session will be in a few days, and there will be psych evals after that, but I know, even with that professional care, I won’t be able to heal if… if I can’t open up to the most important person to me about what happened.” 

Spencer grew quieter as he spoke, almost whispering as he finished. He looked at me again with a mournful expression I was confused by. Stroking his cheekbone with my thumb, I replied, 

“Of course love, you can tell me anything, I’m here for you completely. Whatever you need.” 

He sighed, “I know, and I’m so grateful, Y/N, truly, but… I know it will hurt you to hear about,” he kissed my fingertips softly, like an apology. 

My heart lurched. He was right, but also… he had been horribly tortured and traumatized, and his main worry was still hurting me by just telling me what had happened. My chest ached and felt too full, like the emotions within were close to bubbling out. 

“Spencer, the best thing you can do for me is whatever it takes for you to heal. That’s all I want, I just want to be with you and for you to be happy and healthy. It will be hard to hear, and I will be sad, but only out of empathy and love, and it’s worth it if I can get a better understanding of what you’ve gone through and help you get through this,” I drew his face up gently by his chin and kissed his lips, transferring my love and emotion to him. His eyes were glassy when we separated; I was sure mine were as well. 

He carefully turned over and I rotated slightly to push my back into the back of the couch to give him room. Spencer curled around me, his face between my chin and my chest, legs tangled in mine, hands around my waist. I wrapped my arms around him, one hand on his back and one cradling the back of his head, entwining in his curls. He took a few deep breaths, checking if the position was okay for his ribs and steadying himself for what he was about to reveal. I found my own heart stammering in my chest but tried to radiate peace and calm, rubbing his back and massaging his scalp slowly. And then, he whispered a brief account of his abduction into the crook of my neck.

“We were back at one of the disposal sites looking for… the unsub,” he began shakily, “It was… so dark. The building had been abandoned for a long time and I went to check the parking lot… I should have waited for backup, but I thought the local recruit was right behind me… I didn’t even hear anyone approach, just suddenly felt like my head was exploding and then blacked out.”

He twisted further into me and I suddenly realized I could feel a raised bump on the back of his skull. I felt air leave my lungs and I was glad I was laying down; I felt nauseous. But I wouldn’t interrupt him, and he continued. 

“I remember coming to a few times in the back of a car, the road was bumpy so I knew it was a rural area, and the car seemed to be an old pickup… but I couldn’t fully regain consciousness until later. I first became fully conscious in a dark room, duct taped to a chair. It was too dark to make anything out, but the chair I was on was small and wooden, the ground was hard dirt, and my eyes weren’t covered and I wasn’t gagged, so I knew we were somewhere far away and rural enough that the unsub wasn’t worried about me seeing the location or yelling for help. I couldn’t…. Couldn’t see at all, it was so dark. It felt like being confined in a tomb, no idea how much room I had and unable to see any light. It was a new moon so not even moonlight.” 

I knew of Spencer’s fear of the dark and realized that was why this specific part of his abduction was so seared into his brain. That carnal fear would be with him for a long time. I felt a choking sensation rise in my throat as I pictured it. 

He continued, “I couldn’t just wait though, and I knew yelling was useless and would only call the unsub’s attention. So I scooted the chair forward as much as I could, trying to find a wall, a door, anything. Then I… I lost my balance and fell over. My head was still throbbing from the first strike and this just made it worse. I passed out again, woke up, tried to scrabble around for something on the ground, maybe something sharp to cut myself loose, but no such luck. I passed out again and woke up…” he sighed heavily here, “I woke up to a heavy boot kicked into my ribs.” 

I shuddered and held him close. This was breaking my heart but he needed to get it out. 

“The unsub wasn’t… fully coherent. He had been acting out his childhood abuse, taking young men that resembled him when he was younger and getting drunk and physically punishing them like his father would do to him. We were out at his father’s old barn, where the unsub was beaten as a child. He spent most of the time drinking and rambling, sporadically going into fits of violence and shouting. He… he sprayed a hose on me several times, and I was able to get a few mouthfuls of water a day. I tried talking to him, I talked until I went hoarse, but he just wouldn’t listen, the psychosis was too deep.” Spencer clung to my shirt, but his voice was steady.

“I’m guessing it took so long for the team to find me because the land was under his father’s name and he’d changed his name multiple times since he left home at 18. He was living off the grid, he’d torture his victims until they died of… of the beatings or the starvation and dehydration, whichever came first. Then he’d drive them the three hours back into town and dump their bodies in alleys. His dump site was unconventionally far from his comfort zone.” 

I listened and continued to stroke Spencer’s hair, trying to hide the shaking of my hand, trying to absorb all he was saying and not focus on the descriptions of his abuse. If I wasn’t careful my mind would wrap around those thoughts and drive myself mad knowing I hadn’t been able to stop it. 

“I was unconscious a lot of the time, and often he would just pass out drunk. I tried a few times to escape but he kept… adding to the duct tape, kept the binds secure. When I wasn’t trying to talk him out of it or thinking of how to escape I just… I thought of you,” with this he nuzzled even closer into me, and his voice grew more gentle as he continued,

“I ran my mind through every moment we’ve shared together, reliving it all, remembered our first meeting, when I finally got the courage to ask you out on a real date, going to the movies and exploring coffee shops and libraries, the beautiful dress you were wearing when we first said we love each other, the curve of your smile and your hips, your jokes, your sweetness, everything,” Spencer finished quietly. “Thinking of you is what kept my sanity. When before… before all I had was Dilaudid to cope, this time I had you to think of.” 

By now my eyes were streaming tears but from our position on the couch Spencer couldn’t see my face and it was taking a good deal of control to stop my body from shaking, but as he fell quiet with this last statement I felt the dam in me break and I was wrecked. My body wracked with sobs and he looked up, his hands flew to my face, fluttering over me to wipe away my pouring tears. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, it’s not your fault I’m… I just can’t help but feel… oh Spencer…” I choked out. I felt so guilty for breaking but I couldn’t contain my pain for him. His eyes spilled over too, but he stayed silent, just watching me. 

“I love you so much,” I sobbed, and wrapped my arms around his neck, wrapped my legs around his, “I don’t know what I would do without you, I was so scared.”

“I know, Y/N,” he softly murmured into my hair, “me too, but it’s okay, we’re here. We’re right here.” 

We let our therapeutic tears roll through us, riding out the waves together. By the end of it I felt exhausted; my tired and swollen eyes were too heavy to keep open. I felt Spencer shift a blanket over the two of us and kiss my forehead, and we both fell asleep under the light of the television, emotionally and physically spent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter took awhile longer, I think it's the longest yet and I rewrote it a few times but I think I'm satisfied with it now. I might have a more mature (read: sexual) chapter coming up in the near future and I was wondering, should I post that as a separate addendum chapter to give it a mature rating and keep the rest of the fic G, or should I just up the rating for the whole fic? Please let me know, I'd love some feedback <3


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the very long hiatus on this piece! I've moved and it's taken me awhile to get back into writing but I do hope someone out there enjoys this. Thank you for reading <3

 

Nightmares plagued me again that night. I saw Spencer on the ground in fetal position as a giant man looming above swung his booted foot back for a kick. Time slowed down as I watched the boot change direction and swing forward, an inevitable pendulum. I lunged to get between Spencer and that kick but could barely move, looked down and realized I was completely wrapped in heavy weighted chains. My scream was silent in that frozen moment.  

My eyes flew open at a quiet mumble from Spencer, still in my arms on the couch. The room was dark, it was the middle of the night. His voice sounded calm, something about liver temperature and time of death- he was dreaming about autopsy? I grinned- he was working in his sleep. At least he wasn't in a nightmare. 

I wrapped my arms tighter around him, a futile attempt to become the armor I wished I could be, and slipped back into sleep. 

I woke up to a large hand cradling the back of my head and lips soft on my forehead. I looked up and smiled sleepily, and Spencer grinned back. 

"Morning, kid."

I yawned, my eyes watering. 

"How are you feeling?" I asked, worried about his ribs. 

"A little sore," he grimaced reluctantly. I guessed he was actually in more pain than he wanted to show. "I'm not really sure how to get off the couch..." 

"I'll help," I assured with a kiss.

I carefully clambered over him and off the couch, then helped him gently roll over and sit up. He visibly tightened and held his side. 

"Sitting up is the most difficult right now... I think," He said hoarsely. 

I nodded, "let's try standing then. Maybe a hot shower will help loosen you up?"

I was relieved to see that standing was indeed less painful pressure on his rib cage, and led him to the bathroom. 

As I undressed Spencer he lightly tugged at my shirt before looking at me for permission. 

"You want me to join you?" I asked, though I had already been planning to. 

He nodded, tugging my shirt up and off before pulling me close, nestling his head on my shoulder. We held each other for a moment, before he kissed my neck and pulled away with a small smile. I finished undressing and turned on the water, waiting for it to get hot before helping him in. 

Once again I surveyed the damage done to his ribs and thighs. The sympathetic throb of pain in my heart was beginning to feel familiar. If I had the option of it being him or me to have gone through this pain I would have gladly taken twice as many bruises. 

Spencer surprised me by taking my face in his hands. 

"I know what you're thinking," he said gravely, making me meet his eyes, "Don't. It's not your fault, and I would feel even worse seeing you in my position than I do now." 

I bit my lip to keep it from shaking at the truth in his words, and only nodded, not trusting myself to speak. He kissed me softly as the hot water fell over us, a moment of connection suspended. 

We pulled apart so I could wash his hair, lathering up the shampoo and massaging his scalp. I pressed close to him with my arms lifted so I could reach; he moaned softly and held my waist, whether at the massage or the close contact I wasn't sure, but I smiled at the noise. 

When his hair was rinsed he gently turned me around and washed my hair for me. He carefully kneaded his fingers across my scalp to my tight, sore neck, and I moaned when he began working out a knot. Spencer chuckled near my ear,

"I've been learning from you. And god, you're tight." 

I leaded back and rolled my eyes, "yeah, life's been a little stressful lately."  

He snorted and finished gently washing my hair. When he was done he wrapped his long arms around my waist and gently held me to his chest. I felt his heart pulsing through the skin of my back and couldn't hold back a shiver at the thought of how close we had both come to the end of that rhythm. Spencer kissed the top of my head and we stood there until the water turned lukewarm. Then we quickly finished washing and got out.  

In the bedroom I got out a pair of sweatpants and a sweater, then helped him get dressed as he was still standing. I threw on leggings and one of his sweaters; it was raining heavily outside and felt like a day to stay in. 

"I'll go get breakfast started," I said with a smile, "you should probably lay down." 

"No, I can help! I think the shower did help, I can do it." 

I bit my lip, a little worried. Spencer chuckled, "Come on, at least let me make the coffee. You should go blow dry your hair, you could get a cold." 

I sighed and rubbed his arms lightly. "Okay, let me know if you need anything." 

He grinned and kissed my nose before heading to the kitchen. I got to work on my hair in the bathroom, my ears straining over the sound of the blowing hot air to hear any disturbance in the kitchen. A sudden crash made me jump, my thumb jamming the off switch on the hair dryer, and I flew to the kitchen in a panic. 

A mug lay shattered on the floor as Spencer stood by the counter, clutching his side with a pained expression. He looked up as I burst into the room, trying to disguise his grimace. 

"Be careful! The ceramic on the floor..." 

 He trailed off as I leaped over the shards to get to him. 

"What happened, your side?" 

I asked, my hands fluttering over him nervously. 

"I'm clumsy is what happened, I turned too fast and hit the corner of the counter," he chuckled sheepishly. I could hear a strain in his voice-- he was still in pain and trying to brush it off. 

"Oh no, god that must have hurt. Come lay down on the couch, I'll get you some ice."  

"Actually, can we go to the bed? That sounds more comfortable right now." 

I nodded and he leaned on me as I helped him back to the bedroom. 

"Sorry about the coffee," Spencer said softly. 

"It's okay! I'll go get you an ice pack and get the mug cleaned up, then make the coffee and we can decide what to eat." 

He sighed as I helped him into bed, "I wanted to be helpful, instead I just made a mess."  

I kneeled next to him and brushed a stray curl from his forehead. 

"Spencer, the mug or the coffee isn't a problem. What's important is that you take it easy, that way you can heal as fast as possible. And I'm here to help." 

I leaned down and kissed his forehead. Some emotion like frustration and sadness flickered across his face, but smoothed over at the contact.  

"Thank you," he said quietly, meeting my eyes to make the full weight of his words known. I nodded with a smile, and left for the kitchen before he could see me choke up. 

After setting him up with an ice pack and several large books, sweeping up the broken mug, and starting the coffeemaker, I took a moment to sit alone on the couch. Some heavy emotion bubbling up inside of me revealed itself to be worry. What kind of toll would all of this be taking on Spencer? Could I do enough to keep him safe? Absentmindedly I realized my foot was bleeding; I had cut myself on the mug after all. I almost laughed. 

How could I manage to take care of him when I could barely take care of myself? 

I was trying not to cry when my phone started ringing on the coffee table. I scooped it up and saw it was Emily before answering. 

"Hello?" 

"Y/N! Hey! How would you feel if I stopped over with some donuts to visit? I've got your guys' favorite!" Her voice was vibrant and sing-songy. 

I could've cried with relief right then, "Yes! Em, that would be perfect, I was just trying to figure out what to do for breakfast." I couldn't hold back a little wobble in my voice and she heard it. 

"You okay honey?" 

"I'm... ah yeah, it's just... a lot, and I'm um.... worried that I'm not...." my breathing was starting to quicken out of my control and I felt nauseous. Her voice rang clear through the phone, throwing me a lifeline. 

"A very good friend once gave me some advice, and that's that no matter how hard things get, you can sit through anything. Just sit and breathe. That's all you have to do right now." 

I took a big shaky breath and it really did relieve some of the pressure in my chest.  

"I'll be there in 5, okay?" 

"Okay. Thank you, Emily." 

 "No problem at all." 

After we hung up I continued to sit. Could I do this? What was going on with this wave of doubt hitting me? I wanted to do this. I needed to do this. This was the most important thing I could be doing right now. Why is that? 

Oh. 

Spencer is the absolute most important person in the world to me, I realized. I love him more than anyone or anything else. 

_Oh._

It was like a switch was flipped. This was more than just a relationship to me, this was the only relationship I wanted anymore or ever. I think I had felt it for awhile but hadn't had the full weight of knowing it yet. Oh god, the thought of losing him was even more terrifying now. 

I heard my name being called softly from the bedroom by the center of my whole world and squeezed my trembling fingers together before I got up and padded back to him. 

I poked my head in and looked wide eyed at the beautiful sprawling figure on the bed. Dark eyes under messy curls looked back at me, confused.  

"You okay? Who was on the phone? Y/N?" 

I nodded slightly to myself and slowly approached the bed, carefully kneeled on it, ignored his further questions. I couldn't really hear him, I had to see, had to seal in the thought. I took his face in my hands and kissed him. 

And it was like the very first time, but more. Sparks rolling up my back from my gut, telling me this was good and right. He reacted in a way that made me think he felt it too, kissing back eagerly as a shaking hand softly covered mine. We finally broke apart and he looked up at me wide eyed. 

"Y/N... what is going on?"  

I cleared my throat a little to answer and then heard the doorbell ring.  

"Aah... Emily's here?"

 


End file.
